Like The Finest Wine
by LadyFayte
Summary: Tony's been lusting after Steve for most of his life. And meeting him has only worsened the problem.


Tony's stretched out on his bed, hands tracing down his torso, circling his own nipples, pinching them hard, in just the right way that makes him jolt every time. His spine arches up, and somehow, he conjures up the image of larger, stronger hands. Hands capable of lifting cars. Hands that have him squirming in bed alone every night, because god-fucking-damnit, he's fallen hard for Captain America, Freedom incarnate, and there's no fucking way he's going to get that into his bed, regardless of how talented he is at getting people into it.

Fuck, he used to jack off to his poster as a teen, and now he's meeting the real man and it's brought up all those feelings Tony was so sure he'd bottled and sealed since then, but no; now the cork's been popped and it turns out those feelings have aged like the finest wine and it smells so good and hurts so much the next morning. Because then he has to look that very man in the eye, and not say a damn word on the subject. It's ridiculous how hard he has to restrain his flirting. Bruce smiles when he flirts with him, Thor laughs, Clint shoots them back just like his arrows, and Tash rolls her eyes. But Steve... Tony squeezes his prick, derailing that thought expertly.

One time. One. Fucking. Time. They'd just saved the world (again) and his armor catches on some rubble, right? So he, y'know, stumbles. He's tired, flat out exhausted, and Steve fucking catches him, armor and all. And being Tony Stark, he just has to say something. What comes out is "And here's our dear Hunkules, savin' the damsel. Whatta sweetheart." And Steve... He _chokes, _dropping him like a tin of rotten fruit.

So he scrabbles up, doesn't say a word about it. Pretends he wasn't caught by strong arms. Or let go of by the same. Or that he said anything remotely like putting his foot in his huge ass mouth. He's Tony Stark, this is normal for him. By the time he's convinced himself he's done nothing (and by that he means everything) wrong, Cap's already off to help clean up like he always does. And, really, it shouldn't sting. But it does. They were almost friends and now... Now he doesn't know what they are.

But that doesn't stop the fantasies. Oh fuck no. In fact, right now he's entertaining his favorite.

Steve, between his legs, spreading them wide open and back. Staring down at him with those baby blue eyes. A dick he's only imagined, pieced together from small moments and surreptitious glances, pressing against the cleft of his ass, hot and heavy. God, he hopes he's right, and the thing is huge. He wants to be fucked open, with slow, drawn out thrusts. Wants to tighten himself around Steve. Make him shout.

He grips his own cock hard, fisting the shaft and rocking his hips against the image his brain has supplied. It's from one morning Tony'd still been awake, having only come up to get more coffee. It was well worth dragging himself away from the project. Steve had taken off his shirt after training in the gym, and was covered in sweat and just... glowing. He wants to see that face again, but directed at him. Only for him. Wants to see that honest, bring-me-home-to-mom face twisted in ecstasy.

He slips his free hand down past his prick, past his balls, and presses three fingertips to his asshole. He imagines it's the head of Steve's cock, strokes himself hard and fast, and comes. "Steve..."

He's tried going to bed with other people. Male, female, it didn't seem to matter. He got laid, yeah, but it didn't quite satisfy him. He wants Steve. And it has to be Steve, he thinks, and he's going crazy from the frustration of not having him. At this rate, he might just kiss him up against a wall, get punched, and be fucking done with it. At least then, maybe his damn heart, or whatever is left of it after all this time, will just let go. He falls asleep with that thought.

Just because it can, the world is in danger by the time he regains consciousness. It's not robotic octupi, thankfully. Just a doom machine in lower Manhattan. And a few flying monkeys. Which actually gives him an idea- Bruce shakes his head, already vetoing the entire thing as he disables the device. A bit put off, Tony shoots the nearest one down, where it narrowly misses Captain America on the ground far below.

"Sorry Cap!" He says over the coms. "I was hoping it would turn into something more romantic on the way down. Like a bouquet."

No response.

Whoops.

"Hey, Rogers, you aren't choking up down there, are you?" Clint pipes up.

"Quiet on the Coms. How many times do I have to say that?" Coulson is not sounding happy. He's not sure /why/, since they do this every time, and there's really no reason they need the communication lines clear.

From there, things progress smoothly, at least compared to their usual work. Bruce deactivates the "Doom's Day Device" and then Tony destroys the important part that would let it be turned back on and they all go home. Everything's fine and dandy.

Until Steve corners him, hands resting on either side of his shoulders, boxing him in. His face is set in determination, and it makes Tony a bit weak in the knees. He raises an eyebrow.

"Problem, Cap?"

"I'd like it if you stopped... Flirting or whatever it is you've been doing in my direction."

"No can do, it's my default setting." It's also the only chance he has to say anything remotely like what he feels for the man.

"It's insincere."

"Is that what you think? Listen, Rogers, if you think that's dishonest, you'd hate it more if you heard the truth."

"It would be preferable, I'm sure."

"You wouldn't believe a word."

"Try me."

"I'm in love with you." Well, shit. That wasn't what he meant to say.

Steve is staring at him, incredulous.

"Told ya." Tony ducks under the taller man's arm, deciding to escape while he's confused. Perhaps if he double locks the lab's security- He's pulled back, Steve's hands now on his shoulders. No escape now.

"Say that again." Fuck.

"I thought you were supposed to have superior hearing, being a super soldier and all?"

"Tony. Say it again." Tony can't see his face, with his head hanging like that. And oh, god. He can smell his shampoo and his sweat...

"Damnit. I'm in love with you." He grinds it out, and it's even more painful the second time, because he knows what he's saying.

And then.

And then Steve – Captain Fucking America – is kissing him. On the mouth. It's a bit rough, and unrestrained, and it's everything he's wanted and it's right there, so he kisses back.

Steve pulls back, the bastard, and is grinning like the war is won.

"Hey. You don't kiss a man like that and just fucking stop. Who taught you- Mmph!" Another kiss, this one slower, and now Steve's hands have moved to his arms, fingers loosely grasping him, and his body is pressing against his. Tony's own arms wrap around that waist, pulling him as close as he can.

This time it's Tony who breaks the kiss. "So what was that even about? I mean, if it's even partly mutual, then why would you want me to stop?" He draws breath to keep going, but the other man cuts him off.

"I thought you were just being you. You flirt with everyone and it doesn't seem to mean anything. I just-" Tony kisses him this time.

"It meant something with you, alright? Just remember that, will you? Maybe not with anyone else, but always you."

And then Steve does something utterly adorable. He kisses his nose. "I will." He says. Tony's heart melts on the spot.


End file.
